


Left You This Way

by GotTheSilver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Ghosts, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 07:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12360528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: The wardrobe door slams open and Sirius rolls his eyes.  “And mother always said I was the dramatic one.”“You were,” comes the response, a whisper on the non-existent wind that Sirius pretends not to hear.





	Left You This Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).



> your HP prompt caught my eye, hope you enjoy this little treat!

The first time it happens, Sirius assumes it’s another facet of his ever fracturing mind, combined with the hell of being back in his childhood prison. He doesn’t believe it’s real, can’t possibly believe that it’s Regulus. Not now. Not after all this time.

It’s the loneliness that’s making him think it’s happening, the days and nights of not being able to go anywhere, of the slightest nudge making his dear old mother’s portrait scream at him, of realising that he may well be out of Azkaban, but it’s never going to leave him.

The creek of Regulus’ bedroom door could’ve been passed off as it being the house, or Kreacher sneaking about, but—Kreacher wouldn’t have moved anything from Regulus’ room, so when one of the family crests turns up on Sirius’ bed, he throws it across the room. There’s a rustle of the curtains after he does so, but nothing more.

“Fuck off, Reg,” he says, just in case.

*

Sirius is woken up by a hand touching his hair, and he lashes out, not realising he’s swiping at thin air until he opens his eyes. A dream, he insists to himself, ignoring the fact that since Azkaban he barely dreams of anything substantial. Only a dream.

The wardrobe door slams open and Sirius rolls his eyes. “And mother always said I was the dramatic one.”

“You were,” comes the response, a whisper on the non-existent wind that Sirius pretends not to hear.

*

People come and go, and Sirius makes no mention of Regulus’ ghost hanging around; wouldn’t want them to think he’s more mad than they already assume he is, after all. Sirius is starting to see things in more detail, now. An outline of Regulus’ hair by the books infested with pixies; Regulus’ fingers appearing against Sirius’ tea cup; a smile that Sirius remembers across from him when they’re discussing Order business.

Sirius can’t quite decide if it’s punishment or a blessing. These glimpses of Regulus making him remember all of the years they were separated, the bitterness of seeing him in the halls at Hogwarts and having to play off like it didn’t hurt to see his brother following their parents’ doctrine. But then there’s the nights he’s alone in the house, when everyone else is out on assignment and Sirius can’t sleep, and he feels Regulus’ presence like a comforting balm.

He’s going insane, he knows it, but there are moments when he thinks Regulus’ ghost is slowing the process.

*

Then.

“You made it,” Regulus says. “Always knew you would.”

The smoke curls around them as Sirius looks back at where he fell through, at where there’s no way back to the living. “Fuck off, Reg,” he whispers as he turns, smiling at his brother.


End file.
